Protecting UNCLE
by Emily McCartney
Summary: Illya Kuryakin wanted a place to call his own, but in order to get what he wanted, he had to agree to an U.N.C.L.E. sanctioned housekeeper. He got me! I am the lucky little lady that gets to keep a ship-shape home for the Russian spy. Lord, help me!
1. Welcome to UNCLE

I couldn't tell which was louder: the beating of my heart or the clicking of the Secretary's typewriter. In fact that typewriter is the only proof that I wasn't in a psych ward. The walls are painted a soft white, the molding stained a cherry-wood red, and on the walls hung incredibly accurate copies of a Rembrandt portrait and Monet's "Water Lilies" painting.

The only interaction between me and the pretty secretary was a polite "how do you do?" and her asking me to take a seat because it would be a minute. I tried to make polite conversation but she just smiled that perfect white smile but didn't reply. Strange. I gave up on the conversation and decided to occupy my mind by focusing on the reason for even being here.

I thought I was just interviewing for a housekeeper position for a wealthy man. But with how many security measures I passed through I started to wonder what the position was. Maybe I would keep house for a former President! Doubt it. My life isn't that exciting.

My eyes focused back on Monet across from me. I'll admit that art wasn't my favorite subject in school, but something about the painting made me wonder if it really was a copy or even a forgery! I stood to get a closer look at the painting. The strokes were practically perfect, in fact they looked textured. I couldn't stop myself from reaching out, I felt the slight texture of dried paint. No way!

"Beautiful isn't it," I heard a husky voice ask. The voice scared me so badly that I as I turned I tripped over my own feet and found myself plummeting toward the floor. I barely registered the gasp of the secretary as I braced for impact with the shag carpet. That impact was thwarted by two strong arms. I looked up thinking that the man whose voice frightened me is the one that caught me, but there was two men besides the one working quickly to set me back on my feet.

"You alright, Miss," asked the gentleman whose hands were still on me. His voice sounded foreign, almost...Russian. I nodded to him and his hands dropped away. My hips, were they had been resting, felt chilly. _Curious_.

I turned to the other two and flash an embarrassed smile. "It is quite beautiful. It is one of my favorites that I remember from Art History in school." I took a deep breath and decided to bold. I've got nothing to lose now. "It's the original, isn't it?"

All three seemed astonished. The secretary smile at me brightly. I knew she was on my side for the moment. The first gentleman with the husky voice answered me. "That is quite right, my dear." The thick English accent told me that he was the man that I was here to see. "You have a good eye."

I smirked, "Now if I can just stay on my feet I'd be the perfect girl." A cheesy joke but at least I could make the joke. The three gentleman laughed with me out of politeness. The third, which had been standing in silence up till now, stepped forward.

"We can't judge your feet at the moment, you were startled." Finally an American! He flashed me a charming smirk as he picked up my hand to kiss the back of it. "Napoleon Solo," he introduced.

"You never cease to disappoint, Napoleon," the Russian called out. He too turned to me with a meek smile. "I am Illya Kuryakin."

"Yes, yes now that we are all good friends you gentlemen are going to have to leave. You have work to do." The Englishman ordered. The two men bowed slightly and left without objection. "They are two of my best workers but they can be easily distracted sometimes. Anyway, shall we get started, my dear?" He offered his arm and escorted me into the office. I took a quick look over our arms to get a quick look at the two men. The Russian had looked back to me too, but snapped forward when he saw that I'd caught him.


	2. UNCLE Alexander

Mr. Waverly's office felt a lot cozier then his waiting room. The room painted a mute brown with the same cherry-wood molding lining the walls. His walls were decorated with war paintings including, what I assumed was the original, "Washington Crossing the Delaware" painting. The gentleman let go of my arm as he walked around the desk. I watched the old man with a certain curiosity.

"I will tell you one thing, Uncle Alex, you certainly run a tight ship around here." I smiled at the Brit. His eyes sparkled with humor as he dropped to his seat. I couldn't believe how old he'd gotten, and try to imagine how my father would look if he'd lived to be in his 60s.

"Do you think your father would be proud," he asked with a smile.

"Undoubtedly, and a little jealous of the decor." We both giggled at that. Alexander Waverly waved his hand as his silent way to ask me to sit. A commander through and through.

"How are you holding up my dear?" His concern calmed the hurt that began to well up inside me. His wrinkled hand covered mine with a firm but kind grip. These aren't the hands that held me tight as I helped tie down masts or swung me around when he played airplane. But it was the same hard expression that would scold me when I got caught fighting in school or sneaking out of the house to go to the lake. Now I look into those same eyes that watched me closely as I was informed of the deaths of my parents. Four years since the "accident" and I've grown up since then. Uncle Alex, my father's best friend and Navy com-padre, knew I could take care of myself, but made sure to protect me from a far. He never was a subtle man, especially once he had the resources.

"I'm holding up. I guess I just want to believe that maybe it is all a bad dream and mom is going to wake me from this nightmare."

"I find myself dialing their number so that Carol and I can invite them over for dinner."

"They would always said yes." We were silent for a second as we gave some reverence to two incredible people.

"Alright to the reason you are here." He pulled back and immediately reverted to his commander role. Being a Navy Brat, I sat up straighter and became a solider like my father taught me.

"Charlotte, I have asked you here because I have a rather unusual position that I need filled but I need someone I can trust and know will be able to take care of herself."

Take care of herself? "Wha-"

"Let me explain. As you know I am in the business of security. Well we aren't talking about bank cops and park rangers, I run an International Security organization call the U.N.C.L.E."

"Are you going to have to kill me now," I joked. He wasn't impressed.

"If you refuse the position I just might have too."

"What is the position?"

"I need a housekeeper to live-in and watch a home for one of my operatives."

"Why?"

"Mr. Kuryakin, has decided that he is tired of the spaciously crowded quarters of the security base for my operatives. He calms that he has been in national security for so long he has earned the right to have something normal in his life."

"And he thinks having a home will be that normal thing?"

"Mr. Kuryakin has been work as a spy for government agencies since he turn 18. That was seventeen years ago. And even before that he never really had a home. His mother was a Russian gypsy that his father feel in love with. They were never truly grounded."

"So he really wants some roots. Hmm."

"Yes, but the problem is the he is one of my most highly sought after operative. His life is constantly in danger. I want to hire you to protect the house as if it were your own, but be there to clean and cook for the times that he is home." Mr. Waverly's hard expression had softened a little as he talked about his operative. He cared about his agents in private but he couldn't let them know. I saw the Uncle Alex under the Mr. Waverly exterior.

"I would need some more recent training on self-defense. But I more curious how it would look for a young lady to be the live in housekeeper for a young man? People will talk especially in the city."

"Mr. Kuryakin, has picked a secure estate outside city limits. It is mostly hidden by a small orchard and a forest grove. The grounds are extensive and beautiful. We've used it as government meeting place before. I think you will be quite cozy there." The old man smiled.

I crossed my arms. I shot him my best unimpressed stare. He smirked knowing that he is the one that taught me that look. When I was little I would spend a half hour in front of the mirror practicing before he would come over. He'd always have a small critique, but I knew he was proud. Now that I was older the look had been perfected with a slight womanly twist, and it took Mr. Waverly off guard just enough.

"Being out in the country no one will really see you, but your employer is hardly home and I highly doubt he will try to compromise you in anyway." Well that is flattering. "I don't think we will have to worry about that appearance. But you do get to go shopping for a nicer wardrobe."


	3. UNCLE!

"Oh snap!" I cried out. My arm twisted further behind me locking me into submission. "Let up a little," I demanded.

"Do you think a THRUSH agent will agree to your demands," my capturer hissed. He is pressed tightly against my back reminding me that women are the weaker sex. I'd been overpowered many times in my years, but not by someone so determined to teach me a lesson. His firm fingers almost completely I circled my wrists and held me in a constrictor tight grip. I could feel his smug grin grow as I struggled against him. Up until this maneuver I'd been doing a good job of dodging a true capture but he got me by surprise. Determined not to let him completely win I shoot my foot backwards and nailed him. He dropped his hold as he fell to the ground.

I stood over my captor with a proud grin. "There," I gloated over the blond man groaning at my feet, "that will teach you not to hurt me."

Suddenly his foot shot out at me and knock my legs out from under me. I crumpled down next to him and he quickly rolled on top to pin me to the ground. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief, and his Russian accent washed over me, "Lesson number 10. Don't stay around to gloat."

I grinned and willingly conceded, "You win, Mr. Kuryakin."

"Thank you, Miss St. James," he whispered.

"Now, will you please get up!?" Mr. Kuryakin quickly jumped to his feet and then helped me to mine. "Thank you." He bowed silently and headed for the locker room. It became easy to see why this stubborn Russian had refused protection and opted for me instead. He could clearly take care of himself. Plus as the watchful Napoleon Solo followed him into the locker room, I could tell that he was never completely alone.

Janet, Mr. Waverly's pretty secretary, waited for me just off the mat. Her eyes were focused on the backs of the two male agents. I could understand why, but it still made me laugh. My guess was that she was more focused on Napoleon, something told me that a date with him could be more readily arranged. I stood just out of her view so that I could enjoy the sight just a tad longer before they disappeared. I even caught myself staring at the back of the blond hair. I wondered if he felt my gaze or if his timing was just that good, but he lifted his hand to scratch his head but then turned to look back in my direction. We quickly adverted our gaze so that we never really locked contact.

"You really got Illya's attention."

"Hmm?" Janet's giggle brought me out of my thoughtful state.

"You put up a good fight. It's been awhile since anyone proved to be a true challenge for Illya to fight." Janet stood over me thanks to her two inch heels, but it felt like she was proud to be next to me. "Anyway, I am to take you shopping for a new wardrobe."

I can say one thing for my dear UNCLE he works fast. He didn't waste time pairing me with his most knowledgeable hand-to-hand combat agent, but he didn't warn me how thorough Mr. Kuryakin's training would be. Now I am being whisked away to go shopping for a more posh wardrobe. Apparently, part of the deal with the job position, I am supposed to look like I belong with the house.


	4. How do you know my UNCLE

Strangely, to my utter surprise, I actually had fun. It seemed like Janet had all this pent up gossip and the dam finally exploded. She and I exchanged little tidbits on Mr. Waverly, and she gave me some pointers on how to keep my new employer happy. Apparently Illya likes to eat, anything out in front of him will be devoured… cautiously of course. She also told me the illustrious Mr. Solo has a more refined taste for the nicer things in life.

"Well, it will be fun to work on my happy homemaker skills," I thought aloud.

"Did your mother never teach you how to make a happy home?"

"She taught me the basics but we moved so much because of my father's work that we never really got the chance to get good at anything. Besides with Dad's work we were pampered and treated like royalty we didn't have to do much for ourselves."

"What did your Dad do?'

"I thought he was simply a Navy captain turned ambassador, but I found out too late that he was much more than that." Janet let me have my moment of silence. "I haven't thought about my parents for a while now. I think a little exposure to Uncle Alex brought back some well buried emotions."

"Uncle Alex?"

"My father and Mr. Waverly were best friends. I grew up under the watchful and critical eye of Alexander Waverly."

Janet smiled. "Well enough of the chit chat, you have some more dresses to try on."

After two more stores and some actual grocery shopping Janet and I were taken to the house that would soon be my home. _Home_ … a word that hasn't been in my vocabulary for at least a year now. Waverly was right the grounds were quite beautiful. I pictured a mansion but this was simply a two story house, maybe three stories if there was a basement. I let go of the breath I'd apparently been holding in. I unknowingly reached for Janet's arm as we entered the lovely home.

"It is about time you've shown up," the crabby welcome of Mr. Waverly. I didn't see him at first, so his voice took me by surprise, but soon enough I found the peak of a gray fedora showing just above the edge of the winged back chair in front of.

"You know it is your fault," I smiled and accused as I rounded the chair to face him. I kissed him on the cheek, "Thank you for the new clothing though. It is much appreciated." I heard Janet gasp, as if this is the first time she'd ever seen anyone be affectionate towards the senior officer.

The old man smirked as he got to his feet, "Don't go ruining my reputation, girl." I smiled bright.

"Sorry, Mr. Waverly," I mocked.

"That's better. Now take an old man's arm and let's get this tour started." I obliged the "old man" as he began touring me around my new home. We didn't make past the kitchen when we were met by the Man of the House. Seeing him in this setting did something weird to me. He wore a grey pressed suit with a soft red tie. His blonde hair parted to the left and his grey eyes had some smirk glinting in them. He was at home... he belonged here.

"Oh good you're here," Mr. Waverly exclaimed rather unimpressed. "Now you can lead the lady around."

Illya didn't say anything, just bowed and offered me his arm. I wrapped my hands around his elbow, "Lead the way, Mr. Kuryakin."

"I will leave you two to get settled in," Mr. Waverly smirked at us. I connected gazes with Janet, I knew what she was thinking as her eyes moved between our linked arms and me. I just shook my head and watched Uncle Alex and Janet leave us.


	5. Dinner is Served, UNCLE

Once the door shut behind our guests I slipped my arm out of Illya's. He didn't really seem to mind, but we both felt a little awkward about the situation. Silence hung between us, neither of us really knew what to do now.

"Um…" Illya began.

"How about I start dinner and you could show me the house later." My Russian companion just nodded. I moved to pick up the bags of groceries I left in the entryway. Though the living room connected to the kitchen and dining room, standing in the kitchen made me see stars. Never, in my life, have I been in a kitchen that made me see stars. I remember my mom wishing she could live in our kitchen when we were in the Russian Ambassador house, but now I have that kitchen and I totally understand what she meant. Much to my surprise every cupboard was filled with spices, produce, and utensils. My shopping today was practically obsolete, "UNCLE knows how to stock a house," I whispered aloud.

I opened a tall cupboard just left of the icebox hanging in there was an assortment aprons. I involuntarily reached out to touch them. They were beautiful. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a note pinned to the inside of the door.

 _"Every housekeeper needs an assortment of aprons. Some are used for cooking, others are for cleaning. But everyone is meant to make a lady feel pretty as she sports a dirty face. We will see you soon. -Carol Waverly"_

Only Aunt Carol would think of such a personal gift. I quickly chose the leafy green apron with white polka dots. It matched my white cotton dress. I reset the pins in my hair to be sure it stayed out my face and food. I had dinner to make.

The air filled with smells of my youth. I decided if we were going to make this a home, then I should make him feel at home. I arranged the table setting two place mats on the corner. The borscht sat in the middle surrounded by a basket of homemade biscuits, fruit bowl, and a bottle German Riesling. I stood back and admired my staging. Looks great! Now to find the master.

I followed the corridor, looking behind every door along. I found Mr. Kuryakin in a library. The shelves were still bare but the stack of ten boxes promised a thousand adventures. Kuryakin sat in a tall wing-back chair with a lamp spilling light over his shoulder. I looked a little closer and I noticed glasses on the end of his nose.

"Mr. Kuryakin?" I called. He didn't move, so I moved a little closer, but I had enough sense to stay away from a sleeping spy especially a Russian spy. "Illya!"

He flinched this time, slowly waking up. It took him a minute to realize where he was.

"Mr. Kuryakin," I tried again. "I'm sorry to disturb you but I thought you'd like to know that dinner is ready." I noticed his eyes roll over me carefully, and I remembered that I still wore my apron and I knew it had a stain or two. I winced and just let it be, I wasn't going to bring attention to it.

"I'll be there in a minute, Ms. St. James," he whispered. I followed the cue and scurried back towards the kitchen. I found a small bathroom on the way and slipped in to fix myself up a bit. I let my hair fall so that I didn't look as stern a matron, and so I could get the flour off my face! Taking a deep breath I made my way back to the dining room.

"Is this…" Mr. Kuryakin asked in a half whisper.

"Um, did I do right?" I stood waiting for an answer. My first night, I really didn't want to mess up. I watched as he took his spoon to taste my Borscht. I closed my eyes not wanting to see his dismay although I think hearing the dismay would probably be worse. Suddenly hands wrapped around my waist, I felt the pressure of a chest against mine, and lips roughly claimed mine.

"Спасибо, это прекрасно," he whispered.

"You're welcome," I smiled, "but I don't think it is perfect it is only my first try." He looked at me with a sharp glare.

"Miss St. James-"

"Charlotte."

"Alright Charlotte," Kuryakin smiled, "I don't take my food lightly. Now let's eat." He took my hand and led me to my chair. We eat in a strangely comfortable silence. I notice Illya look at me with a question in his eyes, but I waited for him to final voice it. "Charlotte, how do you know what Borscht is?"

My answer was interrupted by a beeping coming from Illya's jacket. He rolled his eyes, "Open channel D."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Please comment if you are enjoying!**


	6. UNCLE Tom's Cabin

_At least he got through dinner_ , I thought. I packed up the leftovers and made room for them in the icebox. The house felt lonely knowing that at the beep of a cigarette case I would be completely alone. I guess I've been alone so long that the word doesn't hurt as badly as it used to.

"Although, he did promise to give me a tour of the house," I chuckled. It will be fun to explore the house by myself, but first I had a closet to fill. Our rooms were upstairs, and not surprisingly my room was the closest to the kitchen. I took the stairs two at a time and came to the first open door. The walls were a soft mossy green and sported a red stripe that split the upper half from the lower. A bay window lit the room with a soft evening glow. A scarlet red cushion covered the lid to a chest bench for storage, and the bay alcove's walls were actually shelves stocked with books. A white vanity was pushed up against the wall, organized and fully stocked waiting for me to make it useful. I found a fully stocked stationary desk, a private bathroom and walk-in closet ready to be filled. It felt oddly good to fill a closet with clothes that were mine.

About to an hour later I was unpacked and ready to see the rest of the house. My fingers glides the across the bumpy texture of the aged sheet-rock. I passed Mr. Kuryakin's closed door wondering what was just beyond the door. Could the international spy have some trinkets or spoils from his many adventures, or maybe he would have a shelf full of forget-me-nots from the lovely ladies he had saved and wooed. I shook my head of the lasting thoughts, nothings about my wonderings were normal. He is my boss, I just met him like a day ago and I am not some floozy that falls for any man that I've spent more than three hours with. _I guess this case is slightly different,_ I smirk to myself, _I have already been pinned underneath him._ Aunt Carol would be slightly astonished but truly proud of my racy thoughts. But I left my imaginings on the threshold of my boss's door.

Down the second set of stairs led to the spare bedroom, this was set up like a hotel complete with a pale for champagne. For the look of the room and the stories that Janet told me this room was designed with Mr. Solo in mind. I had snoop around a bit and wasn't disappointed when I found a full clip of bullets. _Spies do not waste time apparently_. The comforter and sheets were a simple grey, and the rest of the room was the perfect type of masculinity.

I finally made my way to the library where I found Illya earlier. Each title seemed to want to jump from the shelf begging me to hold them. I compromised by simply running my fingers over the bindings and paying attention to each title as I passed by. Toward the back of the room I came across a familiar title but spelled in a new way, "U.N.C.L.E. Tom's Cabin." _We aren't very subtle are we?_ Thankfully it is in small enough print that unless an intruder was really looking for it they wouldn't find it. I pulled the leveler and just like in the movies the wall sunk in and moved slightly to the right. The lack of creaking told me that this is going to be used often. I slipped behind the door and found a small alcove before a thick steel door blocked my path. I looked to the wall hoping to find something that would open the door. My finger slipped across a biometric plate that lit up in seconds flash the outline of a hand. I press my palm against the plate and within seconds my name flashed as the steel door opened. _A weapons room?_


	7. What's Wrong UNCLE?

**Author's Note:** I am so sorry it took so long for me to update and this isn't even a very good update. I wanted to find a way to incorporate Charlotte into the TV show canon without messing too much with the idea that the men are the ones in the field that it is all about. I decided I would start this process by using the basic outline of my favorite episode "The Project Strigas Affair" (S.1 Ep. 9) The episode has just enough holes that it is easy to fill in a couple gaps. I really hope you like it. And seriously... Thank you for staying with me.

* * *

A weapons room would be the technical term for it but is was more of a safe room. I knew U.N.C.L.E. tried to be one step ahead, but this felt like they know the house will be attacked.

"That's not ominous at all," I smirked.

"It's not meant to be ominous, Charlotte," a heard from behind me. My eyes grew big and I came face to face with Mr. Kuryakin. "Hello."

"Illya!" I released a breath that I didn't even know I held. "You can't do that."

"I'm sorry, Miss St. James," Illya smirked. "I'll where a bell around my neck when I'm in the house."

"That would be appreciated," I playfully sneered. "What are you doing home so soon?" Something about the words once I heard them gave me pause. _Did that sound possessive?_ Illya didn't seem to mind, but I really needed to watch my step. _We are two adult playing house, not creating a home._ I followed Illya out of the "Cabin Room"- he later informed me- to find Mr. Napoleon Solo stood looking at our shelves.

"Mr. Solo," I announced as I stepped beside him.

"Ms. St. James," Napoleon smiled and shook the hand that I offered.

"Oh please call me Charlotte," I informed.

"Then I am Napoleon." He winked at Illya, who stood behind me.

I looked at Illya and saw a hint of exhaustion in his blue eyes. Something told me that if Napoleon had come over it was going to be a late night. "Well come to the living room and I will whip up some dessert for you, gentleman."

"Oh Charlotte, please don't bother." Napoleon spoke up. I had a feeling he was well fed, and even had time for dessert with whatever he was doing tonight. I looked to Illya, I knew he wasn't going to beg.

"No bother at all. I was planning on making some anyway." I winked at Illya who played it cool. _My peppermint chocolate chip cookies will bring both of them to their knees._ I moved to the kitchen as if I'd been born there. Illya followed me with a stern look on his face. I felt like the First Lady, being followed for my protection from the kitchen knives. "Off to the living room, gentlemen. I will only be a half an hour."

Reluctantly they made themselves at home in the living room and picked up conversation as if it were never interrupted. The topic had something to do with eliminating a government figure. But they kept making an emphasis on "making him totally useless." Tried to ignore their growing harsh whispers, but they were desperate and out of ideas. They replayed a monologue by some Eurasian Ambassador over and over until I had it memorized. My curiosity got the better of me as I set the timer for fifteen minutes, so I made my way to the arm of the brown leather chair that Illya had been formerly occupying. The men were deep in thought and hadn't seem to notice my presence. They were playing that speech again, "...and that is why, gentlemen, that my government, together with all the other peace loving governments throughout the entire world, denounces the East and West alike as hypocrites and imperialistic warmongers..." The sentiment sounded familiar, like something I'd read in the paper earlier this week.

"Who is this," I spoke up. Their head snapped to attention as if I had scared them. _They really hadn't seen me come in_.

"Ambassador Laslo Kurasov," Napoleon answered with an amused huff.

"The two faced Ambassador from somewhere in the Balkans?" Instantly I recognized the voice and the words. This ambassador has been creating waves in the disarmament talks, but I only knew as much as the papers cared to elaborate on. Apparently I knew more than I should've if I were to judge by the looks on their faces. "Why are you focusing on him?"

Okay maybe I overstepped my boundaries, but I'm a politician's daughter so I incline towards government intricacies. Illya and Napoleon shared a shrug and decided I was worth the risk. They repeated the details of the mission in a way that reminded me of schoolboys practicing for their social studies test.

"And we have to make him completely useless to his government."

I giggled, "Sounds like you guys need an exterminator."

"What did you say?" Napoleon stopped pacing to stare at me.

"An exterminator"

"Do you mean an assassination?" The word made me cringe.

"What? No. I mean corrode from the inside out. Isn't there a poison or something that a rat thinks is food and brings it back to the others. All are happy to feast while unknowingly killing themselves from inside out." Their eyes lit and the ding of my kitchen timer worked as the perfect sound effect.

They were silent in the time it took me to grab the cookies from the oven and deposit them onto the awaiting cooling rack. Finally I heard Napoleon throwing out ideas, but Illya wasn't biting.

"There has got to be away to get him to commit total diplomatic suicide," Illya enforced.

"Maybe convince him of something that would only better his diplomatic career," I suggested from my place behind the kitchen counter. I scooped six cookies into my hands and proudly swayed back to my seat next to Illya. His knee bounced to an incomprehensibly fast rhythm. I threw out one more thought as I handed Napoleon his cookie, "Or frame him for embezzling."

I held Illya's out to him and he absentmindedly took it. He bit into the soft dough closing his lips tightly as he began to chew. Slowly he stood to his feet, his eyes wide with awe and as soon as he swallowed he grabbed me by the shoulders held me firmly in front of him. "I've got it! We'll do both," Illya exclaimed.

"Huh?" Napoleon and I shared.

"We will get him so convinced that he is doing something good for his country, that he will pay whatever amount we ask for to get it, and then we put it in deposit box with his name on it." He took another bite of the cookie and ran down the hall towards the study. Ringing down the hall you hear the Russian accent comment, "These are delicious, by the way."

I shook my head as Napoleon chuckled to himself. "They are very good, Charlotte. I think this is going to be a long night. Do you think you can make another batch before you head to bed?"

"I will be happy to make another batch but if you don't mind... I'd like to stay up and help. I may have some insight into the world of diplomacy that you gentlemen may not have taken into account."

"Well in that case, let's break out the good wine too."


	8. An UNCLE with a Plan

We were up most of the night ironing out details for this diabolical scheme. Napoleon worked tirelessly to start up a Swiss bank account. Illya and I worked closely on composing a scheme that would convince the ambassador that he could better his career.

"Okay, we have the bait and the trap now we just need the perfect vehicle," Napoleon pointed out.

"Oh my goodness," I felt my eyes grow wide with realization. "I can't believe I didn't think of this before."

"What, Charlotte," Illya growled impatiently.

"Anne Donfield, my roommate at Bennington, was telling me of her husband's really interesting move. He just gave up a prominent position as a chemist for the government to start up his own exterminator business," Illya had begun pacing as I explained. "Look, I know it isn't much to go on right now, but the Donfield's are legitimate and have all the right ties to intrigue an interested party. Plus from the way Anne sounded, they are looking for a miracle."

Both men stared at the wall thoughtfully, and then as if a bolt of lightning had stuck them they started bouncing ideas off the walls. Based on their back and forth I could tell that they been partnered together for a while. My eyes shifted between them basking in their enthusiasm as their plan got more and more elaborate. I could tell they didn't need me anymore, so I decided to bow out and finish up some of my dishes. Before I could pick up the tray of cookies, a hand grabbed my arm pulling me into the arms of Napoleon Solo.

"Mr. Waverly knew what he was doing when he chose you," Napoleon leaned down to thank me, but I turned quickly and his lips met my cheek. I caught the look of utter surprise on Illya's face, but was it at Mr. Solo's action or my aversion to that action.

"My, Mr. Solo, you are a might fast worker, but I suggest you use those moves on a women that deserves it a little more than me."

As I passed Illya I thought I heard him whisper something about worthiness. Illya stopped Napoleon from coming after me. I finished the dishes as they finished their planning. Napoleon headed back towards his room, but not before stopping to apologize.

"Charlotte, I am used to moving fast. I will do you a favor and slow down."

I turned to Napoleon with a smirk, "Napoleon, do us both a favor and give up. I am flattered, but I think you will get bored of me very quickly." Napoleon turned to look at Illya, who was trying hard not to listen in.

"At least you are honest Miss St. James. I look forward to working with you further."

"And I you, Mr. Solo," I smiled as I shook his offered hand. "Your room is at the end of the hall. Sleep well I think you are going to have a long day tomorrow."

Illya stayed in the corner of my eye until Napoleon made his final exit. I continued to dry the dishes pretending to ignore Illya while he worked up the courage to approach me. Without a word, he took a place at the sink full of dish and began rinsing them off. We worked in silence. From the way that people of U.N.C.L.E talked about him, I thought he would be a hard, rough spoken man that would be more of a lord in his home than a man. _This must be one of the menial tasks that his missed doing himself._ I am sure Uncle Alexander would trip over himself with laughter if he could see Mr. Kuryakin. The spy had rolled up his white sleeves so that one could see the thick hair of his arms. His blue eyes concentrated on the dishwater as if he was studying a brief but he seemed satisfied.

"Thank you," murmured the quiet Russian accent.

"For what?"

"Everything," he smirked as if to reinforce his gratitude.

I shrugged, "I didn't do much."

"Вы знаете, что это неверно,*" Illya's adamant tone took me off guard.

"Of course it is true. All I have done is eavesdrop, ply two grown men with sugar and unpack a couple of bags." I looked over at him and locked in on those intense blue eyes. I swallowed hard as if I were about to be reprimanded by my father. He took the dish and towel from my hands and replaced them with his own. "You helped us concoct a grand diabolical idea, and you made borscht. I haven't had homemade borscht in a very long time." He paused almost trying to figure out how to go on from that.

I squeezed his hands and flashed him a satisfied grin, "I'm just doing my job."

"I want you there with us when we approach the Donfield's."

The request caught me off guard, "What about Napoleon?"

"What about him? I want you there and I think he will see the wisdom in that decision when I tell him that I was thinking about the Donfield's. They may respond to us better if you are there with us."

The explanation was sound but it brought me back to reality. _Of course he would want me there for Anne's comfort_. It took me a second to recover from my thoughts but I took a deep breath and smiled, "I would be honored."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I hope you are all enjoying this story. I am very sorry that it is so slow moving.

*"Вы знаете, что это неверно" should translate to, "You know that isn't true."


	9. A Rich UNCLE Has Come to the Rescue

Illya parked the car in a spot about two stories below a window that sported "Continental Exterminator Company" in proud bold lettering. We waited silently for Napoleon to meet so that we can move on with phase two of our diabolical plan. Our plan was practically airtight but no plan could truly be infallible. Illya's knee bounced, reminding me of a school boy waiting impatiently to see if his prank worked. I myself stared out the window with my thumb nail between my teeth.

"Are you okay, Charlotte," Illya finally spoke up. I jumped at the crack in silence, and Illya did his best to hide his amusement.

"Yeah, just nervous. Michael Donfield is a very proud man and I am not sure how he is going to react to this."

Illya seemed to think about that for a minute. "I am sure when Napoleon works his charm, Donfield will not only agree but will also feel a sense of pride for serving his country." I couldn't help the giggle that bubbled out of me, Illya chuckled with me.

"I think the best part of that statement is how true it really is." The tension of the mission slipped away as our snickers began to subside again. I looked into my boss's eyes as saw a easiest that I don't think he ever experienced. I bit my lip in with a nervous gnawing but this time it was to remind me that I am a housekeeper and should remember my place. I shouldn't have come, Illya already pointed out that Napoleon would be able to talking a baby into giving him their lollipop.

"What are you thinking about," Illya called me out.

"Dinner," I lied, "I just realized that I don't have any meat thawing so I don't know what we are going to do for dinner."

"Didn't Illya tell you," Napoleon announced. I jumped out of my skin accompanied by the scream that my throat produced. Immediately my hands covered my borscht red face refusing to look at the men I knew were covering their laughter.

"Napoleon," Illya tried to defend me through his laughter. "You... you really... should be more considerate." I looked between the slits in my fingers to see Napoleon shrug.

"Wha shoulb be have toad me," I mutter into my palms.

"What?"

"What should he have told me," I braved a look at them.

"We are hopefully taking the Donfield's out to dinner, and that 'we' includes you," Napoleon winked. I looked to Illya and he winked. I guess I had no choice, I was supposed to be here. "Well," Napoleon continued, "Phase one is complete and I just got word that they are looking into the existence Strigas. The hook as been baited, and now it is time to cast the line." Napoleon Solo is the only man in the world that could get away with a comment like that. The tone was couched somewhere between sultry and sinister, but it had the perfect effect. "Shall we head up? I don't want us to be late for our appointment."

Napoleon led the way upstairs, Illya and I followed. Even though Illya held a box full of random trinkets, he still offered me the crook of his arm to escort me inside. I did relish the opportunity to be close to Illya, I wouldn't see a lot of him after this part of the mission. Once at the office door we could hear the excited murmuring of Michael Donfield. Napoleon asked that I stay out of sight until he summoned me.

As soon as Napoleon knocked the excitement in the office ceased. Unenthusiastic Michael Donfield called for the men to enter.

"Good morning," Napoleon opened.

"Well, that depends," Michael snarked.

"My name is Napoleon Solo." Illya closed the door behind Napoleon, but not before giving me a wink. "I represent an organization known as the U.N.C.L.E." Napoleon continued.

Anne spoke to the confusion, "Well, uh, we haven't received your bill?"

"Well, quite to the contrary. We are here to eliminate bills. As a matter of fact a very rich uncle just came to life and he's going to take care of all your debts," Napoleon explained. I smiled at the comment, it flew over their heads but Napoleon knew exactly what he was doing.

"That's funny," Michael spoke up. "I don't remember entering any contests."

"I know all his relatives. No rich uncles. I didn't marry him for his money," Anne announced, still not understanding.

 _Pull out the stops, Napoleon_ , I thought to myself and strangely enough, he listened. "You're Mrs. Anne Donfield. Formerly Miss Anne Cortney. Graduate of Bennington, 1960." I could just imagine the look of shock and confusion on Anne's face. Her blue eyes wide with fright. Napoleon moved on, "And you're Mr. Michael Donfield. Graduate of MIT, 1958, chemical engineering, one of the top men in your class. Mr. Donfield, I need a man and I need him quickly. But he must have the right background and he must be legitimate, because a certain party's going to check him out quite thoroughly. Now you suit all of these qualifications to a T. Most importantly, you've just made a rather peculiar move and that may very well intrigue the man who checks you out."

Again Anne spoke up first, "You mean like giving up a $35,000-a-year job with a large firm for all of this?"

"I just wanna have a business of my own," Michael defended. Something must have caught his eye because he start throwing around questions, "Would you mind getting out of here unless you want some pests eliminated?" _Illya must've drawn some attention to himself._

"Uh, yes. As a matter of fact, we want to eliminate one very large pest. More importantly we want to preserve world peace," Napoleon quickly explained. I could hear them much more clearly which meant that Michael really meant to throw the gentlemen out! Napoleon explained further, "We would like you to accept a position with a non-existent corporation manufacturing a non-existent product."

Anne started asking question and I couldn't quiet hear what was going on. All I knew was that suddenly Michael sounded resolute, "All right. I may be out of shape, but I can still toss the two of you out of here."

The door opened and I hid out of site, just as Napoleon made one last desperate attempt to convince Michael of his sincerity. "Mr. Donfield, I am sure you can toss us both out of here. Perhaps it won't be necessary after you hear me out. If you still feel the same way, we will leave quietly. Five minutes. That's all it will take me to tell you about... Strigas." The both stopped fighting them this time.

"Before we do explain," Illya spoke up, "let us bring in some credentials that you can trust."

"That would be appreciated," Michael snarled. Illya opened the door and held out his hand. I accepted the offer and allowed him to usher me in.

"Charlotte," Anne exclaimed.

I grinned widely, "Hello Anne." I ran to hug her tightly. "I am so happy to see you."

"You know these gentlemen?"

I looked over my shoulder with a smirk, "Hello to you too, Michael."

"Good to see you, Char."

"I work for these gentlemen," I informed him, "In fact I am the one that gave them your name, and a lot of this plan we structured with you two in mind." Michael seemed to be pacified.

"Alright," Michael shrugged, "What is Strigas?"

"Strigas, is a non-existent nerve gas that would render whole city immobile so that the invaded country awakes to being conquered but still intact," Napoleon put in simple terms. I could see the wheels turning in Michael's brain, wondering about the engineering behind a gas like that what it would do if it fell into the hands of tyrants... or the hands of anybody for that matter. Both Anne and Michael listened closely as the three of us took turns explaining different aspects of the plan. We must have convinced them of the necessity of their cooperation; because once we were all done the couple looked at each other with an unspoken question.

Finally Michael turned to us, "Where do we start?"

I excitedly grabbed Anne's hand exclaiming, "You are going to a Ball!"


	10. UNCLE Gets Ready For A Party

I stood just behind Anne as she admired her ball gown. "You look as pretty as you did when you first met Michael," I whispered.

"Are we totally crazy for believing these guys," Anne questioned.

"Aren't we all a little crazy for wanting to save the world?" I shrugged. "My parents died trying to save the world. I guess I just want the same opportunity, and these are the men that will help me do that. It helps a little that I work for them."

"You always were an idealist," Anne smirked.

"Yeah," I smiled, "and now we get to work together."

"I'm not here to save the world, Charlotte," Anne sighed. "I am here to give my husband and myself a good life."

"Isn't that saving the world? Doing what you have to in order to see a better tomorrow, whether it is for all humanity or just your family," I suggested. "That is your world." Anne's breath hitched, almost as if I convinced her of the right thing.

There was a knock on the door, and Napoleon called, "Are you ladies okay?"

"She's ready Napoleon," I replied come on. Anne shot me a nervous look, but I just mouthed that she will be fine. We entered the living room of the penthouse sweet where two of the gentlemen were waiting for us. Michael's jaw dropped at the sight of his lovely bride in her princess ball gown.

He handed her a glass of champagne, "Mrs. Donfield, you look beautiful." Michael couldn't stop staring at his wife. The slight shake of Anne's glass told me that she wasn't totally sold on the plan, but she wasn't going to back out either.

"Everything is very beautiful. But I'm not so sure we're doing the right thing," She voiced as she allowed Napoleon to put on her mink shawl.

"Your chauffeured limousine is waiting for you," Napoleon announced.

Anne nervously smirked, "When does it turn into a pumpkin?"

"I can assure you it won't," he smiled. Napoleon shot me a look of help and I shrugged knowing that there was no hope of convincing her. "You're going to be the guests of the government at an international ball. Now, one final briefing." Napoleon addressed this part to Michael specifically, "In about one-hour Ambassador Kurasov and his aides are going to discover that YL893 is the code designation for Michael Donfield. A man who runs an unsuccessful pest-control business which is really a front for Strigas headquarters." Napoleon came over to me to help him straighten his tie as he continued, "Then later at the party, he will discover that Michael Donfield is a very bright but cautious young man. And also that he has two vulnerable spots. He adores beautiful women and he loves strong martinis. Do you think you can convince him of that?"

I smiled at Napoleon before he turned to gauge Michael's reaction. Michael was smiling at the thought of role-playing, but Anne gave him a warning glare. "Well, I can try."

"Now, just don't overplay your part, darling," Anne played along but both Michael and I recognized the threat that laid behind her smile.

"Illya will be out in a minute, Charlotte," Napoleon told me. I nodded my understanding and moved to give Anne a hug.

"I know you are on a mission to save the world," I smiled, "but be sure to have a little fun tonight."

"You aren't coming with us?" Anne asked.

"I'm afraid not," I explained, "because of what my job is my identity needs to remain a secret as long as it can." Anne squeezed my hand in understanding, and Michael kissed my cheek as I wished him luck. Napoleon promised that he wouldn't let anything happen to them, and they would be back before two in the morning. I gave Anne a quick wave before she followed her husband out the door.

I poured a small shot of Russian Vodka and waited for Illya to come out of his room. "How do I look?"

I turned to my boss with the drink in my hand. "Who are you and what have you done with my boss?" Illya certainly didn't look himself with a brunette wig and matching mustache. I giggled as I watched him inspect the vodka. "Are you going to join me?"

"I was hoping you'd ask." I showed him my glass as well. He gave me a crooked grin as I clinked his glass. I took a step closer to him with a question I needed to ask, "Are you gonna be okay?" I made a rather bold move by adjusting his jacket and letting my hand brush over his chest.

"Of course, I'm a super-secret spy remember?" His hand grabbed mine and held it.

I moved my hand to squeeze his as I whispered, "That better be true."

"I will be back, Charlotte," He explained, "I promise.

"I am holding you to that," I replied as I handed him a pair of glasses. "Let's get this mongrel."


	11. Hey UNCLE What's the Plan?

I knew that my nails looked as if they'd been through a massacre by the time that Anne came back from the party. I tried to read but the words tended to burr before my eye, and the three shots of vodka definitely did not help. _Why can't I settle down?_

"I know that he was supposed to be acting but I am so mad," Anne exclaimed as she burst through the hotel door. I could see the tears that she tried desperately to hide.

"Anne," I gently called out to her. She locked her exasperated glare on me. In college that look would have scared me… _good to know that she's still got it._ She crossed the room towards her and Michael's room with a silent determination. I stood paralyzed, wondering if it was safe to follow.

She stopped just inside the doorjamb and turned to me with another of her withering looks, "Are you going to help me out of this dress or not?"

I did not have to be asked twice as I followed her into the room just in time for her to start her story. To be honest it was mostly about how Mrs. Kurasov practically commandeered her husband and plied him with martinis all night. I felt awful for Anne, but if Michael played his part as well as Anne described we were going to be able to pull this whole scheme off. We got her out of her dress and into something more comfortable just in time for Michael and Napoleon to stumble through suite door.

"Anne," Michael called with a slur. "Anne!"

We rushed to the sitting room just in time to see Napoleon clasp Michael Donfield onto the couch. Anne forgot all of her anger that she previously expressed and rushed to her husband's side.

"Anne," Michael gasped, "I'm so sorry I hurt you." He drunkenly grabbed at her. Napoleon tapped on my shoulder and motioned me to follow him into the bedroom.

"Is he okay, Napoleon," I questioned as soon as he shut the door.

"He is fine," Napoleon smiled. "He played his part very well, so the martinis are finally kicking in."

"You couldn't have stopped him from offending Anne?"

"He was trying to play along. Kurasov's wife was sent in a distraction," He explained. "I will say Anne did a fantastic job of playing the jilted wife."

"I can guarantee you she wasn't acting." I chuckled a little imaging Anne's reaction to the next steps in this dangerous game we've begun.

"Have you heard from Illya," Napoleon voiced in the silence.

"No," I shrugged, "I thought that he was supposed to check in with you." He was but he isn't answering my communications. My heart sank to my toes and my breath became short. _Why am I worried? Illya is a capable agent and is more than qualified to watch his own back._ But I think my concern cemented when I saw the nerves flash across Napoleon's face as well.

The phone rang at that moment and I shot Napoleon a look of fear. He motioned me to answer it, "There is no way that anyone would call to make a deal when they are under the impression that Michael is drunk."

"The correct impression," I whispered.

"Just answer it," I went to pick up the phone on the third ring when Napoleon adds, "in Russian."

"Привет" I greeted. The Russian greeting that came back was laced with a slight bit of pride.

"Good evening, Charlotte," he continued in Russian. "Please let the Primer know that the message has been delivered. I am settled in with the Ambassador tonight, I will report in the morning." He hung up as soon as the message was delivered. I relayed the message to a relieved Napoleon Solo.

"Good," he quipped. "I am going to go check on Anne and Michael."

Napoleon left me alone with my thoughts. For some reason, every muscle in my body seemed to relax for the first time that day. _Why?_ I've been at this job a little over a week and yet I am so wholly invested in what happens next. This felt like more… this fear felt personal. No… it was just the excitement and adrenaline from the job. _Occupational hazard, that's all._ My fear sprouted from the idea that lives were on the line and that if anything misstepped we would be on the brink of a Nuclear World War III.

I fell back onto the Egyptian cotton sheets staring at the cherubs painted to watch over the occupants of the room. I sat in silence listening to rustling in the sitting room. Napoleon was working to keep Anne and failing miserably. _I could let him struggle a little but if she gets any more frustrated she will eat him alive._

"Anne," I called quietly from the doorjamb. She looked up at me with a sharp look. In college, that look would have scared me, but in this case, I knew that I was doing the right thing.

"Charlotte," she growled, "he needs me."

I came to her side to get a better look at Michael. He was passed out on the couch, still in his tux, but his bow tie was loose and he looked comfortable. I covered him with the couch blanket and silently demanded Anne to head to the bedroom. I looked to Napoleon and got his assurance that he would stay out here with Michael. Anne was not satisfied with any of this but she finally relented, and Napoleon and I shared a sigh of relief. Anne was finally going to bed, Illya had delivered his message and all we could do is wait.

"Good night, Napoleon," I whispered.

"Charlotte," He called, "you know he is going to be okay, right?"

"Am I that transparent?" I chuckled.

"A little. I saw the look of pure relief when you answered the phone earlier," he pointed out. He came to my side and picked up my hand, "He is a good man, Charlotte, and an incredible spy, but that doesn't lessen the risk that he puts himself in every day."

"I know," I conceded. "I will get used to this… hopefully soon."

"I really hope you don't," he claimed. "Tonight was the first time he has ever checked in if it could possibly blow his cover. He needs you just as much as you seem to need him."

"Am I crazy, Napoleon?"

"Yes," he smiled. "But that is exactly what Illya needs."

* * *

 **Author's Note** : I am so SORRY for the delay. Thank you so much for being patient with me.

I've have been thinking about the chapter for a long time and rewritten it about three times. I love the idea of Charlotte and Illya, and I figure that in the intense world of International Security they wouldn't waste any time.

I really hope you like it! Comment if you have any ideas or concerns.


	12. You Should Get Some Sleep, UNCLE

I felt like I barely slept fifteen minutes. Between trying to pacify an angry Anne Donfield and worrying that something would happen that we aren't planned for I didn't really get to rest. According to the clock ticking at me, I was able to get about a thirty-minute nap in before Anne started tossing again. She wasn't awake but with the way she kicked and grumbled I could tell her dreams were not happy. I decided since sleeping wasn't feasible at the moment I would go out onto the balcony and watch the sunrise.

The lights of the city were playing "Simon Says" with the stars, the city bustle and noise blended together creating a peaceful wall around me. For a few seconds, I closed my eyes and just let the world's chaos to sink it. _Our plan is working, it is. We just have to trust it._ That is easier said than down, but now was not the time to be second-guessing.

I went to check on Napoleon and he was passed out. _Good to know that he can sleep. He is going to need it._ I checked on Michael, still breathing and must've been dreaming about Anne as he whispered her name once or twice. _He's gonna have a nasty headache when he wakes up._ Napoleon stirred briefly, his muscles looking for a new position.

"Anne," I heard the whisper. I looked to see Michael trying to sit up.

"Woah there, Michael," I rushed to his side. "You need to-"

"Get your hands off me," he slurred, "I'm a married man!"

 _Good for you, Michael_ … The drunk's antics stirred the rest of the suite. Napoleon bolted to his feet with his pistol in his hand. I acted quickly to orient the drowsy agent and assure him that nothing is wrong, but it was too late Anne had begun to stir. _Well, I guess I should ring room service._

Within forty-minutes, everyone was up and about. Anne scurried about trying to take care of Michael. Napoleon mixed together a sort of hangover cure and handed it to Anne.

"I never should've let him out of my sight," Anne snapped at us. "I should've known better."

"It was just awful," Michael tried. "Honey, you have—You have no id—What's our next move?" He addresses the question to the bemused Mr. Solo.

A smirk spread across the spy's face. "I know how you feel, Anne," Napoleon claimed. Both Anne and I shot confused and doubtful glances at him.

Unimpressed Anne challenged, "Do you really, Mr. Solo?"

A knock on the door cut off Napoleon's response and the room fell silent with him. He stalked towards the door without making a sound. He opens the door in a slow but confident manner. In stepped a trench coat-clad man with a look of annoyance on his face.

"Kurasov insisted I spend the night at the embassy," Illya explained. Michael and Anne relaxed a moment when the realized that it was simple Agent Kuryakin. I recognized him immediately but I refrained from rushing to his side. He was safe and that is all I needed to know.

"How did your part go," Napoleon questioned.

"Fine," Illya reported, "The more I counseled caution, the more intrigued he became." I crossed the room to take his coat as he explained. "He is now concerned that his enemy, General Kolodin…" he began to lose the fake glasses and mustache. "… is secretly trying to get Strigas in order to enhance his own position."

"Sounds good," Napoleon confirmed. Napoleon was looking him over for any signs of foul play as Illya finally took off the wig.

"There is one possible danger," Illya claimed. "That aide, Vladeck. He's very jealous of his position." Illya turned to me with a playful glance and smiled, "He suspects that I may be trying to replace him."

Both Illya and Napoleon scoff at that just as the phone rings. The room grew quiet once again as Napoleon takes the lead. He turns on the speaker as we all crowded the phone. Illya took a quick second to squeeze my hand. I assumed it was his silent reassurance that all is fine.

Michael picked up the phone, "Hello?"

A slightly Transylvanian accent greet him, "Mr. Donfield?"

Michael answered it, "yes."

Illya turned to me and Napoleon and mouthed, "Vladeck." This must be Kurasov's jealous aide.

Vladeck explained, "Last evening, while you were dancing with Madame Kur—With a certain lady, you indicated some interest in selling you- uh, business. Might we arrange for you to meet with a prospective purchaser?"

Michael looked to us for a quick answer. Napoleon whispered, "When?"

"Monday, 3 p.m." One could almost hear the smile in Vladeck's voice. "That busy orange-colored hot dog stand off Second Avenue. If you'll hold two hot dogs, as though one were for a friend-"

"I have a problem," Michael cut him off. "I'm under complete surveillance every time I leave the hotel."

As if suspected Vladeck continued, "If you'll walk past the newsstand further down that street, say at 2:50 p.m. your problem will be given special attention."

Napoleon and Illya shared a look of complacency. They knew that something like this would be threatened, but it didn't make the idea any less tedious. Michael quick hung up the phone and peppered us with questions.

"Why a busy hot-dog stand?"

Napoleon answered this one, "Initial contacts are always better in public. It's safer. See everything must be complicated, nothing too easy. Either for them or for us. Otherwise, Kurasov might become suspicious.

"What about the newsstand," Anne asked.

Napoleon sighed, "Well, uh, that's where they take me out." Anne and Michael shared there own look of concern. "Look I assure you both this meeting is going to be harmless. They are going to send a proxy that is going to probe for as much information as they can, but Michael, you are going to stay as tight-lipped as you can. You will only tease information, we want them to buy."

"But-" Michael began.

"They want what you have they aren't going to hurt you. You are too valuable at this stage," Illya added.

"Well, what do we do until tomorrow," Anne asked.

"We prepare," Illya laughed. He got to his feet and pulled me to the bar with him, "I can't stay long, I have to report to Mr. Waverly and then I am due back at them Embassy for dinner with the Kurasovs."

I smirked, "I think you are just trying to dodge Anne's pointed criticisms."

He laughed with me, "Maybe. Your friend is very opinionated."

"But she is loyal," I defended. "That is why I love her. Will you be back tomorrow?"

"Someone needs to be back up for Napoleon. I can't let him walk knowingly into a trap without a little help."

"Well at least let me order you some room service," I offered.

He shook his head, "Not now. I promised Waverly that I would report immediately after setting up the meeting. I will see you in the morning." He leaned in and kissed my cheek as he whispered his goodbye. "You should get some sleep tonight, I hate seeing those pretty green eyes looking so exhausted."

"Seeing you in the morning, Illya."

"Buona Notte Bellissima," he whispered in Italian.

"Show off!"


End file.
